


Keep Those Rags & Machines Humming

by wordplay



Category: due South
Genre: Community: stop_drop_porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-03
Updated: 2008-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:12:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordplay/pseuds/wordplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Car wash prompt, and it's hard to be more literal than this. This is my first fic in this fandom (not counting a certain travel zine toss-off story) so, wow, that was a lot of worry about character and voice for porn, eh? Super-speedy overnight beta by <a href="http://omphale23.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://omphale23.livejournal.com/"><b>omphale23</b></a> and pep talk and brain-sorting-out by <a href="http://jlh.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://jlh.livejournal.com/"><b>jlh</b></a>, who transcends fandom boundaries to help a girl out. Forgive the retro cheese title, but the other option was "Car Wash Porn" and it doesn't do to be completely prosaic ALL the time.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Keep Those Rags & Machines Humming

**Author's Note:**

> Car wash prompt, and it's hard to be more literal than this. This is my first fic in this fandom (not counting a certain travel zine toss-off story) so, wow, that was a lot of worry about character and voice for porn, eh? Super-speedy overnight beta by [](http://omphale23.livejournal.com/profile)[**omphale23**](http://omphale23.livejournal.com/) and pep talk and brain-sorting-out by [](http://jlh.livejournal.com/profile)[**jlh**](http://jlh.livejournal.com/), who transcends fandom boundaries to help a girl out. Forgive the retro cheese title, but the other option was "Car Wash Porn" and it doesn't do to be completely prosaic ALL the time.

  
Benton Fraser was resigned to the fact that he wasn't ever going to understand the relationship of American men to their cars. He'd been close to two men while he was in Chicago and both of them saw themselves reflected in American machinery – brash, loud, and sleek – and although Ray Vecchio and Ray Kowalski couldn't be more different, this seemed to be a constant, and he liked to think that he knew enough about forces of nature to know when he should try to stem the tide and when he should just get out of the way. He was grateful he didn't have a similar weakness.

Well. Everyone lies to himself, sometimes.

It began when Elaine and Frannie organized the topless car wash. The children's activity summer fund seemed to always have a shortfall, and every spring they needed to raise funds. The last several years they'd been hosting a community dinner, but it had been a mild winter with an early spring and Frannie and Elaine had taken on the organizing with a great amount of enthusiasm . The car wash was held in the precinct parking lot and was supposed to be "topless", with all of the male members of the 2-7 wearing only their trousers, but Dewey had missed his appointment to wax his back so all of the officers wore t-shirts in solidarity (and relief).

Fraser was there, whittling small toys and figures for the gathering children while the Lieutenant made balloon animals, a skill he refused to talk about, to Fraser's great disappointment. Frannie and Elaine seemed frustrated that Fraser wasn't washing cars, although he couldn’t understand why; the line of cars would surely vary over the course of the days, but there were always plenty of children clamoring for a small top or carved bear, and his skills were rather obviously needed here.

The morning had dawned warm again and the line of cars was stretching around the block. The event had turned into an unexpected block party, with local businesses sending over cold drinks and sandwiches, and a few enterprising children had started a lemonade stand with some very weak powdered mix, but the price was right and it was good to encourage the entrepreneurial spirit. Ray was especially fond of the lemonade, laughing and joking with the children who all wanted him to buy _their_ cups.

Fraser was glad to see Ray emerging from the cloud he'd been under this winter. Chicago in winter was a dreadful, heavy place, not at all the delicate, harsh beauty he was used to from home, and Ray was so much about light and movement that Fraser felt as if he'd been holding his breath for months, waiting to see him in his element again. He was playful that day, splashing the kids and laughing with Huey and Dewey, working hard to clean the seemingly unending line of cars that came through the parking lot and successfully charming the precinct's neighbors. Ray bore hard work well; it was a damp and dirty job and Ray's ragged t-shirt was no better for it, but when he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow, the flash of stomach showed that his whole body was glowing, singing with the exertion, the skin of his belly a healthy, hearty pink.

He saw all that just because he was watching, and so when Ray looked over the want must have been all over his face, plain for everyone to see. Ray cocked an eyebrow and studied him through narrowed eyes, watching Fraser back with a question on his face, and then he ducked his head, looking up, over the sunglasses and through the lashes, rubbing the back of his neck. He shook his head and Fraser knew he meant 'yes'.

Fraser should have known he was in trouble then, but he let it go. And so did Ray.

Until the very next day, that is. He'd told Ray he'd be over as soon as he'd taken Dief to the orphanage to play with the children for the day, and the morning was already growing steamy by the time he'd disentangled himself from the staff and made it to Ray's apartment. Ray was shuffling around his apartment, the lights off, the windows thrown open and fans blowing. He wouldn't install the air-conditioners for a few more weeks, and Fraser always enjoyed those few weeks in the spring and the autumn when the breeze could blow through Ray's space.

Ray was back in a t-shirt and jeans and a bucket and sponge are sitting by the front door. Oh. And then Ray was talking. "…and I just didn't get a chance to get this done yesterday, what with everything, and it's the _Goat_ , and I just need to get the snowcrud off of her. So let me do this and then that's it, we're doneski, finished with the boring stuff for the morning, and then we'll go to the park or something, OK?" He sounded nervous.

Fraser's not stupid, he knew _exactly_ the game that Ray was playing, but he still ended up sitting on Ray's stoop, watching him run water in a bucket and soap up a sponge and, god, bend over the hood of his car. He'd known that Ray loved his car, had heard him talk about what it meant to him and his father. And he'd seen Raymond Vecchio love his car, too, but never this… personally. This _physically_ , because what Ray was doing wasn't just washing, that was… _caressing_. He ran the sponge over the surface of the car with one hand and followed up it up with his bare hand, trying to feel any grit left behind, smiling at the feel of the smooth finish under his fingertips. He worked at it for a while, splashing away white roadsalt and singing to himself under his breath. Fraser could see the sweat darkening the hair at his temples and the way the wet t-shirt was beginning to cling to his torso, but he was still surprised when Ray stepped back and whipped off the shirt, looping it over the doorknob and barely looking at him while he murmured, "Almost done here, I think."

Great sheets of soapy bubbles slid down his arm when Ray lifted his hand to shake his bracelet loose from where it had stuck to his skin, and while Ray glared at his car, willing himself to see any last smudges, Fraser watched as the bubbles traced the muscles in his shoulder and started oozing down his back. When the advance guard reached the damp waistband of Ray's jeans he jolted out of his reverie to see Ray staring at him with the same level of concentration he'd just been showing his car.

Fraser shuffled his feet and looked down at his own boots and then took just a moment to look around him. He was on a sidewalk in a major urban center in a foreign country, and a wet half-naked man was tormenting him and this wasn't even the oddest thing that's happened this week. All he needed is for his fa- no. No need to tempt fate.

"Ray, I'm not sure that level of undress is appropriate here." He moved to loosen his collar and found that he'd already undone the only button on his collar. He cleared his throat. "We are, after all, in a public place."

"What, here? This is my stoop, Fraser. There's nothing public about this place. There's, like, a whole bubble of private centered right on your front door. My dad used to get the milk in his shorts. The paper, too." Ray smirked at him. "What, am I making you uncomfortable?" And what a beautiful, arrogant man he was, putting on a display like that, because the next thing Fraser knew, Ray was dropping down to sit next to him there on the stoop, leaning back on his hands and stretching out his long legs, crossing them at the ankle and squinting through the sunshine.

"No, of course not, Ray." He wished he had sunglasses of his own, that he'd ever made a habit of wearing them, because Ray's chest was pale and lean and muscled. There were droplets scattered across it. His jeans were wet and with his legs stretched out like that, his hips were tucked under and his pelvis thrust forward and the denim is so well-worn, draping perfectly across his – well. How is he _not_ supposed to look at that?

"But some people might find a half-naked man a bit of a threat, and people should feel safe on the streets," Fraser focused on the pavement and argued, because he'd always been a little perverse. The heat was coming off the pavement and he could feel his arm sticky against Ray's and the hot gust of Ray's sign washing over his shoulder when Ray said,

"Well, a little threat can be good, I guess. I mean, no threat – no danger. No danger – anarchy."

Fraser grinned in spite of himself. "Ah, yes. And you've never been fond of anarchy."

Ray grinned back, and it was positively _feral_. "Not true. Not true at all. Fraser, my friend, sometimes you just have to do what feels right and forget the rules. You feel me?"

Fraser was thrown, just for a moment. "'Feel' you, Ray? Of course I feel you, you're right..." and he rested his hand on Ray's bare shoulder, just for a moment, and he had to clear his throat to go on. "ahhh, you're right here."

Ray leveled a long look at him and his voice was quiet when he responded, "Yeah. Yeah I am, Fraser." His eyes flicked away for a second before he looked back, his face resolute. "I have been for a while now, you know?"

And that was just like Ray, dancing around and coming at him so obliquely he could barely see him until, finally, he just spoke the truth. Wet and half-naked and in the middle of the street. Ray's mouth was so soft – he watched him lick his lips, leaving them wet, too.

"Ray." His voice was still gravelly. "Ray, let's go inside." And Ray, bless him, for once he didn't say a word. He just got up, plucked his shirt off the doorknob, walked in the door and headed up the stairs.

There was a rip in his jeans just below one of the back pockets, a long low rip and Fraser could see the flex and stretch of his buttock with every step that he took and he couldn't resist reaching out, feeling the soft fabric gapping open and the smooth heat of Ray's skin underneath. Ray jumped, muttered "Shit, Fraser!" and cast a look back. He was immensely proud to have surprised him.

Ray's apartment seemed darker, cooler, so very private after the sunny spring heat of the outdoors, and when he pushed Ray against the inside of the door and leaned against him the wood felt smooth and cool under his palms. He nosed at the side of Ray's neck, licking along the collarbone where sweat had pooled, and he was hot and salty and the drops of water from the hose were cool against his tongue. Ray breathed out hard and fast and gripped his shoulders, sagging against the door and tilting his chin so Fraser could lick long, slow, all the way up to his ear. He tugged the ear between his teeth, his groin stirring when Ray grunted and wrapped a leg around his own thighs, and suddenly Ray's hands were on his head bringing his face back around.

Ray whispered, "God, fuck, _finally_ ," just before he kissed him.

Fraser had thought it would be fast, frantic but Ray leaned back against the door and pulled him down and just _took it_ with a slow, thorough tongue sliding soft and wet against his own. A long kiss, lush, and Ray ended it with a quick nip to his bottom lip just as he squeezed Fraser's ass in his hands. They were both breathing hard and Fraser stopped to rest their foreheads together for just a moment.

"Anarchy," he whispered.

"You think?" Ray responded. "I don't know, Frase – I'm pretty sure there are some real basic rules of attraction operating here. Everything about this makes some weird Fraser kind of sense," and Fraser kissed his forehead and snorted into his hair because, well, yes.

Ray smiled and kissed his chin, and then licked his way to an ear he could nibble and lick and suck at, and suddenly Fraser didn't feel playful any more. He pulled him away from the door by the shoulders, sliding his hands around, feeling that little rip come to rest under his palm again and, god, that was Ray's _skin_ and there was already so much for him to touch. It was the easiest thing ever to fall to his knees to attack the button on Ray's jeans, touching all the way down. Ray groaned, sliding his hands into his hair and he'd never been so hungry for somebody's skin, he couldn't wait to get Ray's cock into his mouth, so he just didn't. Ray panted and swore above him as he pushed in and out of his mouth, hard and salty here, too, and his balls were drawn up tight even before Fraser cupped them in his palm. Ray's hands disentangled from his hair and tipped his face up. There was that light in his eyes again and he gripped Ray's ass tight with one hand and watched his face crumple into pleasure, his mouth going tight and then slack before he sank boneless to the floor.

He watched Ray come back to himself, watched the fire warm his eyes again, and that wouldn't be something he got used to quickly. He was so hard it was uncomfortable, and Ray noticed.

"Fraser, you're awful dressed there. Couldn't even take off your shoes?" And he wasn't wrong – Ray's jeans were tangled around his ankles and here he was with his belt still on. Ray climbed to his feet, gracefully shedding the rest of his clothes and then he was naked and pushing Fraser to the bedroom, winding them through the quiet dark. The bedroom was hushed, a blanket of damp heat hanging low in the room and the curtains barely stirring. Ray never stopped smiling, never dropped his eyes, until he quirked a smile at Fraser and shoved him back onto the bed, pushing him until he lay flat.

Ray climbed up his body, starting with a hand just above each knee and rubbing up each thigh, pushing his shirt out of the way and shoving it off of his arms, and then he let himself drop down heavy, their chests coming together. Ray's skin felt cool now, doubtless some simple evaporative cooling, Fraser thought inanely, and he slid his hands down to cup Ray's ass once again. Perfect, warm curves. Ray pushed against him and grinned, bending to kiss and suck at his neck and god, _that mouth_. Fraser was completely undone; he barely noticed when Ray had him lift his hips so his jeans could come off.

"Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray," he chanted, a little bit breathless, and Ray only paused for a moment to laugh into his stomach before licking around his navel and then a straight line down to his cock. He kept licking, though, down around his balls, shifting his leg so he could slide that wet tongue all the way down his perineum and string a line of sucking kisses back up to his balls, finally wetting each one completely before sucking his dick back in. Ray kept Fraser's legs spread wide and let his fingers play with his ass, sliding them forward to get them good and wet with saliva and then teasing at his hole. Fraser's orgasm was swift and devastating, and when it was over Ray lay with his head on his hip and lightly ran his fingers all over his groin, happy to be quiet and rest for just a minute.

"Cars, huh?" Ray was smirking, he could tell even from all the way up here, and when he could move again he would wipe that smirk off his face.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Fraser responded, although he sounded more languid than peeved, and he was sure that wasn't his intended effect.

"You like it when I'm around cars, Frase. You're a total motorhead."

Fraser paused. "Perhaps I just respond well to cleanliness," and he smiled and hauled Ray up to curl around him for a short nap on a warm, spring day. 


End file.
